


Shattered Nightmares and Glued Daydreams

by Sysnix



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, just because she's schizophrenic doesn't mean she's not still smart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-15 06:14:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4595979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sysnix/pseuds/Sysnix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke left only to find insanity and John Murphy, who she'd follow anywhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [a helping hand (and an arm, and a foot, probably)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3657810) by [orphan_account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account). 



> I want to remind the readers that schizophrenia manifests in many different ways. My portrait in this story closely resembles two of the prominent schizophrenics in my life. However, if you know a schizophrenic and they act different than what I've written, that's simply because while there are common things most of them face, there as many differences as there are sufferers. 
> 
> Please be respectful.

The boat on the horizon surprised Murphy as he fished close enough to shore that the monster fish thing couldn't get to him, but far enough out that there might be fish. When the monster attacked the boat, the person on board made the brute whimper and disappear. 

"Huh. Maybe I should take a look. But then again why would I?" He threw his line out farther and kept part of his attention on the boat as it got closer. In the time it took the boat to get close enough for Murphy to risk getting in the water, he'd caught three fish. The boat looked empty at first, but as Murphy waded closer, he caught sight of a body. They were covered in caked on mud, sand, and blood. 

He pulled the boat to shore, his bag of fish slipping down his arm. When the vessel was secure, he turned the person over. They looked familiar but with all the dirt, he couldn't place who it was. until a patch of clean blonde hair fell out from behind the matted disgusting mass.

"Shit." He left her there and fell on his ass in the sand, considering what to do. She'd been the one to cut him down when they hung him. And while it was her accusation that got him in that noose, she'd never wanted to hurt him. On the other hand, she was the one that banished him, leaving him alone and vulnerable. He got tortured because of her, but he didn't think that was what she had wanted to happen to him. She took care of his wounds when he came back to camp. She'd kept the others from killing him. And while she never forgave him for anything, she never treated him poorly. The deciding factor was not wanting to be alone anymore. 

Murphy stood up, slung the fish bag over his shoulder again, and picked Clarke out of the boat. He fell on his ass trying to carry her over his arms, so on his second try he slung her over his shoulder. Her grunt told him she was alive.

The fish got tossed in the refrigerator and Clarke got set down in the bathtub. He had to cut the clothes off her. She had several large wounds that hadn't been treated, and her left leg was a giant bruise. He found a gun on her, but it had no ammunition. 

Icy water woke her up fast. Her body jerked up, and she punched him in the face. But she was too weak to have any power behind it. He wrestled her down and as the water warmed, she calmed and allowed him to wash her off. 

"I liked you better before," he muttered. "You're too skinny now. We'll have to do something about that won't we?"

She didn't respond, but her eyes were saucers as she peered up at him. Her breath hitched every time he got close to her wounds. All the injuries were deep. The puncture on her hip, the abrasion on her back, broken blisters on her feet, a large slice in her thigh, and the burn over her left breast, all looked infected. 

When he got up to get the first aid kit, he heard her giggle and splash the now black water. 

It took three hours to patch her up because she fought him every step of the way. She cursed him up, down and center, as he cut out the infection the way she had with him. But her fight died after he slathered her with antibiotic cream. 

"What happened to you, Griffin?"

Clarke put a finger to her lips. "I was the bad guy. Shh, don't say anything or they'll come get me."

"Who will come get you?" he asked.

"The mountain men." Her whisper wasn't at all quiet, but he nodded and agreed to keep mum on the topic.

"How about I give you a stylish new haircut?" Murphy pulled the plug on the drain, and watched Clarke frown as the water disappeared, leaving a layer of scum. "You can take another bath when we're done."

"Fine," she said as she picked up a washcloth and tried to wipe the grime away, succeeding in mostly just moving it around. 

"Hold still so I can cut your hair."

"OK." But she didn't stop moving, so he gave up and helped her clean the tub. He took clippers to her hair. She moved too much for him to use scissors. So instead of short hair, she ended up with no hair. His hair had grown out since clipping it, but it was still too short for his liking. 

Clarke rubbed her head. "Fuzzy. Fuzzy Wuzzy was a bear, Fuzzy Wuzzy had no hair, Fuzzy Wuzzy wasn't fuzzy was he?"

He rinsed her off in the shower and wrapped a robe around her. "You've got to be hungry."

With her head cocked to the side, he could see the fog lift. "Murphy?"

"The one and only. I was about to make fish, you want some?"

She nodded. "Thank you." This time her whisper was barely audible. She sat at a bar stool and watched him clean the fish. Often her mouth opened like she wanted to ask something, but she never did and he wasn't in the mood for crazy, so he said nothing. The sound of fish sizzling in the pan scared Clarke until he showed her where the noise came from. 

While he cooked she explored, but he kept one eye on her. She'd lost all her marbles, and he worried that she would burn the only comfortable place on this planet down. When she found the plates and put two out for them before taking her seat again, he smiled. Perhaps she had a few marbles left. She even got the right utensils out.

He served them a fish a piece, and she smiled big and bright but kept silent. Alcohol wouldn't do her any good, so he got her water, while he poured himself some whiskey. "What was it they used to say? Bon something or other?"

"Bon appetite." The bruises along her arms made her wince with every forkful. But the fish tasted good if the ecstasy on her face was anything to go by. 

Murphy spent several minutes watching her eat before he remembered his own food. 

There was only one bed in the lighthouse, but it was huge and he would rather share and know where she was, then have one of them take the couch and have her hurt herself.

It'd been a long day, and she seemed to think so too. He curled up behind her as he covered them with the quilt. She was asleep before his head hit his pillow. "Sleep well, Clarke." He wrapped an arm around her waist and drifted off himself.


	2. Chapter 2

"Humph," Murphy mumbled as he batted at whatever was tickling his nose. When his hand came in contact with another hand, and he heard feminine giggles, he opened his eyes. He took a minute to remember why Clarke was there, and moreover why she was bald. Then the previous evening came back to him.

"And he finally rises. Your dead is loud." Her robe was half twisted around her exposing one breast, and he shook his head. 

"Do I snore or something?" He asked as he slipped out of bed and walked over to the closet.

"No, dead people don't snore. But you talk in your death." Clarke flopped back on the bed. "You kept saying 'I didn't kill him.' What did you mean? Just between us murderers."

"And who did you kill?" he asked as he pulled out a button down shirt and slacks, both white. 

"I scorched the ground and poisoned the heart of the mountain." Clarke pushed herself up on her elbows. "I'm as bad as Oppenheimer. Way worse than you."

He quirked an eyebrow at her and shook his head again. "Here put these on." 

She snatched the clothes he tossed at her. "OK."

* * *

Clarke looked in the mirror after Murphy left the room. The white bandages were soaked through, so she went into the bathroom and changed the ones she could, cleaning the wounds out with peroxide. It hurt so much she screamed, bringing Murphy in a hurry.

"What's wrong?"

Through the mirror she met his gaze. "Can you take care of my back?"

"Ah, yeah sure." He dabbed her back with peroxide soaked gauze, trying to be gentle but thorough. Her gasps of pain and tears affected him more than they should have. "You need to move less. All you do is reopen these with all your flopping and twisting."

"It's my penance," she said through gritted teeth. "It's to hurt if it's to heal."

"That's from a movie isn't it?" he grinned at the image of a huge pure white furry dragon.

"They don't mean it the same way. Murphy, I wanted to apologize." She turned to look at him when she felt him put on the last bit of tape. "I know why you killed. They strung you up, and I banished you. That led directly to you getting tortured. I can see the damage I caused." Her fingers grazed the scars over his eye and down his cheek. "I'm sorry."

He pushed her hand away. "It's nothing. Get dressed." John pivoted and left the bathroom.

Clarke couldn't handle another moment of isolation, so clothes in hand, she followed him. He still wasn't looking at her, and she tried to get the clothes on, but her injuries made her too stiff to do anything. "Help?"

Turning to look at her, Murphy didn't understand how she could flop onto her back one minute and then the next not be able to bend over. "Give me the pants."

She handed them to him and let him sit her on the couch. He got her feet through the legs then helped her up to pull the pants up and fasten them. He helped her get her arms through the shirt sleeves and kept his eyes focused on the buttons as he buttoned her up. The entire process turned his stomach unfamiliarly. It was almost pleasant, but it was far from it at the same time. He left the top two buttons alone, straightened her collar, and said, "There."

"Thank you, John." Clarke wrapped her arms around his neck. "I couldn't be alone anymore."

He rested his hands on her hip and ribcage respectively so he wouldn't hurt her. "It's nothing. There's this powdered stuff, and all you have to do is add the right amount of water and it turns into pancakes. They're OK, sorta like a better textured ration round with an almost flavor."

"What can I do to help?"

"Keep your nose going. Tell me if you think I'm burning them. It's hard to tell when it's time to flip." When he saw her fidget with a can opener, he took it off her. "Don't touch anything you don't know how to use."

"Got it. Sorry." Clarke nodded, putting her hands in her lap. "Show me how to make pancakes."

Clarke watched the frying pan intensely. The first pancake was a bit dark, and on the second she said, "It's stopped bubbling. So the other side has to be solid. You should flip."

He used the spatula to turn it over. It looked perfect. "Now how do we tell the other side is cooked?"

"I don't know." And the pancakes no longer had her attention. She was off her seat and looking over the large television. Underneath she found movies. Clarke closed her eyes and picked one.

"Don't break anything!" 

"I won't." She took a bit to figure out how to put the disc into the player, but once the disc was in the entire thing started on its own. There were trailers for other movies and then the main event started with ancient video game sounds and a kid coughing. By the time the old man showed up, Murphy set a plate with two pancakes on it in front of her as he took a seat next to her on the floor.

"What are we watching?"

"The Princess Bride." Clarke glanced at her food and rolled one up before taking a bite. 

Her eyes were glued to the screen, but she laughed at all the wrong spots. Murphy wondered what she found funny about Wesley's deaths. When the movie ended, he said, "Let's put in something else."

"As you wish."

He smirked and found a title that looked more action packed. "How about Reign of Fire?"

"As you wish." Her smile was lopsided but genuine.

"This is going to be a thing with you isn't it?" Murphy asked.

"Unless you want to be the one fetching pitchers."

"How'd you like the pancakes?"

"Delicious. Now quit talking and let's watch the movie."

"As you wish," he said as he hit play on the remote.


	3. Chapter 3

Four days into Clarke's stay in the lighthouse, and Murphy thought that the worst she would do was hide the billiard balls and talk nonsense at him for a few hours. He woke up first and started making breakfast. MRE's so they didn't use up the dried goods too quickly, so opening vacuum sealed packs which is harder than it sounds.

In the middle of pouring a glass of water, a shriek startled him into dropping the glass and pitcher, shattering the glass on the kitchen floor. The pitcher was some form of plastic and survived, though the water from it pooled around Murphy's bare feet. There were shards of glass everywhere, and Clarke was still screaming. He tried stepping backward but slivers impaled his arch and heel. From there he jumped as far as he could and caught a small granule in his other foot. He hopped a few feet farther away and then hobbled to the bedroom, leaving a trail of blood the whole way. 

He found Clarke searching the room while pausing in her wails long enough to breathe and nothing more. It took several minutes but Murphy figured out that she was screaming words. They were just drawn out. "I will find you." 

Touching her got him punched in the face then shoved into the mirror so hard it cracked. "Well this is going to be a bad day for the breakables." He cursed under his breath before screaming just as loud as she was. "What are you looking for?"

"The lever." She tried to leave the room but he threw himself in her way. "I have to find the lever before they kill my mom and Raven and everyone." The shrill calmed down a bit, but she was still loud. And then she fell to the floor, sobbing and scratching at her arms. 

Murphy shoved a wedge into the top of the door so she couldn't open it and then limped into the bathroom. He needed to get the glass out of his feet before he could do anything about Clarke.

He got all but one sliver out when Clarke crawled into the bathroom. She got one glimpse at his bloody feet and started screaming again. "Too late! I'm too late. They killed you. They killed my Murphy!"

The last shard would have to wait until she let go of his legs. She hugged his legs tight enough that his toes started to tingle. "Clarke, I'm fine. I just stepped on some broken glass."

When she didn't let go, he worried that she'd gone from cracked to shattered. He sat on the toilet, while Clarke sat on the floor hugging his legs. Since talking to her didn't help anything, he pet her. It seemed inane but what else was he supposed to do? 

Her tears soaked through his pajama bottoms and her arms loosened. Blood rushed into his lower extremities bringing a deep ache with them. Clarke looked up at Murphy. "Don't die."

A flood of affection filled him and he rubbed her chin with his thumb as he held her jaw. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Will you help me find the lever? I need to save the others too. But I don't want to kill the kids. They're so small and helpless. Pulling the lever will kill them and not only the bad guys. I can't kill the kids. Or babies. Can't kill the babies."

She continued to ramble about killing children, and John took the opportunity to tweeze the last bit of glass out of his foot. He needed peroxide and bandages but there wasn't much left of either. Soap would have to be enough. 

"Now what to do about you?" he mused to himself. He got the sick feeling that Clarke had done something she thought unforgivable to save the people from the Ark. Whether or not it was really killing children he didn't know, but he had an unusual idea on how to make her feel better. "Hey, Clarke, let's find the button, the button that only kills the bad guys and leaves the innocents alone."

"A button? There's a button that can do that?" She crawled out of the bathroom in search of the button, and Murphy limped after her. What he didn't think about was that there were thousands of buttons in the lighthouse, many that shouldn't be pushed at random.

All the lights were on, the stereo, the television, the blender, the oven, and the computer before he made it out of the bedroom. He noted that wedges in the tops of doors didn't stop her. He went around turning everything off and tried to find a way to turn her off of the search for the right button. "Clarke! This is the button." He pointed to the one broken remote. "This red button here."

Clarke snatched the remote off him and pushed the red button. "It didn't do anything."

"Because it made the bad guys from where you were leave your friends alone. We're miles away from there so you couldn't see it happen. But I know it did. Your friends and family are safe." He relaxed when she smiled.

As the fog of her confusion lifted, her face crumpled. "No. It didn't help anything. They've been dead for months and months. I killed them. There was a pregnant woman, and all those children. I couldn't look at the infants, but I know they're dead too." Her legs wobbled and Murphy caught her and eased them both to the floor, as he saw her feet were freshly bloodied from walking through the kitchenette. "Murphy? What's wrong with me?"

"Right now, your feet are shredded from broken glass." 

"That's not what I'm talking about and you know it." Clarke's face pinched with despair. "Just say it."

He sighed. "I'm not a doctor but it sounds like schizophrenia. My one neighbor on the Ark had it, and you've been acting a lot like him."

And the clarity disappeared. "You're funny. I'm fine. I should check your feet make sure you got all the glass out."

"I already got it. We need to fix your feet though."

"They've got spiders in them. They're in there wriggling around. My mom never showed me how to de-spider feet." Clarke stood up and walked with ease to the couch. "I'm going to sit here nice and still until they go away."

Murphy shook his head and retrieved the tweezers and a soapy rag out of the bathroom. When he returned, he said, "I'm a spider specialist."

Clarke picked her feet up and rested them on the coffee table. "I'm so glad that one of us knows how to get rid of spiders."

Most of the shards and slivers were easy to get out, but others took some digging because her feet were still healing from the busted blisters. As he wiped her feet and scratched arms with the soapy rag, he said, "I've got to clean up the spiders in the kitchen. I need you to stay right here until I'm done. Can you do that?"

She nodded her head with a solemn trust in him. "Promise."

As Murphy cleaned the floor, he muttered, "I'm going to regret taking her in. She's going to be the death of me. I can see it now. The only two people to find comfort after the apocalypse die in an over the top murder suicide, so they aren't so comfortable anymore now are they?"


	4. Chapter 4

Murphy found little ways to make the bad days less bad. Thunderstorms that made her panic? Take her outside and let her dance in the rain. Looking for that damned lever? He still had that broken remote and its red button of happiness. Nightmares? He rubbed her back and sang off key but soft and low, soothing her back to sleep. Seeing the ghosts of her victims? Watch the Princess Bride or Stephen's Universe for hours if it's a really bad day. Dipped her head in dirt? Mud fight it was, followed by a long shower. Buried herself in the sand? Make her part of a sand castle, again followed by a long shower. Food smeared on her face? Food fight, followed yet again by a long shower. A lot of his solutions required a shower, but he refused to take advantage of her. 

Her hair swept her jawline in the front and hit her shoulders in the back. Since he made sure she showered, and he washed and brushed her hair for her, there were no more matting issues. And Murphy couldn't believe she'd been here that long.

He was screwing around on the computer and found some interesting articles from before the war about art therapy and schizophrenics. He knew she liked to draw, having found some of her drawings back in the early drop ship days. He hadn't been able to put her mind back together but maybe getting into art again would help her where he could never dream.

John searched the entire bunker and found some pens that were long dried out and pencils that with no tips. It took him hours and using a vegetable peeler in an unorthodox fashion, but he got the pencils sharp. There was paper in the printer so he got that and set the supplies on the coffee table where she was sure to find them. 

When she woke up from her nap, he watched her walk around the lighthouse a few times before flopping on the couch. "Take me to the top again?"

He figured she was restless and art was too sedate for her mood. So he smiled. "As you wish."

She handed him the blindfold he used to help make sure that she never found her way up there by herself. He feared she'd fall or worse, jump. 

Blindfold firmly in place, he led her through an unnecessary maze and finally up to the balcony outside the light. He took the blinder off. "Tada!"

Her smile was sad but breathtaking, and the colors the sun made in the water were always stunning. She wrapped her arms around herself and leaned against him. He heard her take that deep breath that meant clarity and seriousness. "John?"

"Yes."

"I know I've been scattered since before I ended up here, but you've taken care of me and did nothing… untoward. I don't want to call it sweet because you'd disagree, but it's something like sweet that's more hardcore and fit for the sarcasm king. Thank you." She wrapped his arms around her waist. "I want to do something for you too though."

"Just tell me how you got the sea monster to whimper away."

She laughed. "I poked its eye out."

"With what? You didn't even have an oar."

She raised her forefinger. "Gross, I know."

"I was thinking more impressive than anything. And you think I'm hardcore? I should take notes." Murphy frowned when he realized he went too far and stuck his foot in his mouth.

Clarke didn't pull away though. "I saw the paper and pencils. And I appreciate the effort, but I'm not that girl anymore. I shouldn't sully what she was by bastardizing her art now."

He kissed the back of her head. "I understand." He didn't, but he wanted to. Lightning split the sky far over the water, followed by a thunderclap and some sprinkles. "Want to go down to the beach and dance?"

"No. I think I want to stay right here." She lifted one of his hands and kissed it for no other reason than she wanted him to feel cared for too.

He smiled resting his jaw on her shoulder. The rain got heavier, and they stood there wrapped together unphased. They were soaked through in no time and lightning and thunder got closer and closer, and still they didn't want to break the moment. 

It was night by the time the sky cleared. When she shivered, he suggested they go back inside. After her nod, he secured her eyes behind the blindfold again. He was afraid she'd object every time they did this, but she never did. He opened the door, and then looked back at the beach. A person shaped shadow stood below them, with a droid circling their head.

He took her inside and double checked that the door to the outside was locked and whoever was out there couldn't get in. That didn't stop them from finding the door and knocking.

Clarke looked from the direction of the door to John and back again. "Any ideas?"

"A couple and none of them good." 

"The light in the front stairs is on. They either know someone's here or will break the door down looking for shelter." Then she started to sing Shelter from the Storm, signaling her return to insane random girl. Normally he didn't mind, and sometimes even enjoyed her non sequiturs but this time was not one of those. Her singing got louder and so did the knocking. Finally he opened the cupboard under the sink and pulled out one of the steak knives, hiding it behind his back as he flipped the lock. When the door opened, Thelonious stood there drenched, but calm.

"I'm glad you found shelter, John. Who else is here?" Clarke was still singing though softer now so Murphy couldn't lie. 

"Clarke."

"She made it here? Why? Are things bad at camp?" Jaha asked as he tried to get past Murphy.

"Look, Clarke's a bit delicate and I don't know how she'd take company. So if you don't mind…" He threw a hand out toward the beach. 

"Clarke's been like family since she was born. Let me see her, John." He tried again to get past Murphy with no luck.

Clarke wasn't cooperating though. Her singing had stopped and her chin was suddenly on his shoulder. "Come back inside, Johnny. It's cold and I need you to warm my feet again." It was like Jaha wasn't even there.

"Clarke?" Thelonious asked as though he didn't recognize her. "Clarke."

Clarke finally laid eyes on him and screamed. John took the momentary shock to push Jaha all the way out, locking the door once more. But now Jaha was pounding on the door, screaming that he needed to see Clarke. He insisted that Clarke needed him and that Murphy did too. 

Clarke picked up a chair and put it in front of the door. When she realized that it wouldn't help anything, she looked at the billiards table and tried to drag it in front of the door. Murphy helped and together they successfully barricaded the door. 

They sat on the floor on the other side while Murphy rubbed her icy arms. "You know he's not going to stop. Or at least not permanently. He'll leave and come back. And he'll keep coming back. Once he gets something in his head, he'll kill anyone and anything that gets in his way."

A single desolate tear rolled down her cheek. "I don't want to see him. It's his fault Wells is dead and he'll blame me for not keeping his son safe. I can't bear that too."

John cupped her face in his hands. "I want him to go away too, but he won't go anywhere until he sees you. But it'll be OK. I'll be right next to you, holding your damn hand if I need to. You'll be safe. I promise." He realized she might not consider him safe enough given his history. 

"You can't let go of me. You can't let him bury me in lies. And you can't let him take me away. I know what they do to people like me. Don't let him do that."

"If I fail, you can always poke his eye out. That'll get him to leave, I'm sure of it." Murphy's grin was malevolent.

Clarke giggled and nodded. "Deal."

They pulled the pool table away from the door and opened it.


	5. Chapter 5

Knife cutting a hole in his back pocket, Murphy gripped Clarke's hand as she opened the door. "Don't yell," she said. "Murphy's always telling me that yelling helps nothing and he's right."

"Clarke, what happened to you?" Jaha tried to touch her face, but she leaned away from him. 

Her laugh was manic and wild. "Scorch the ground and rip out the heart of mine enemies while kissing them good-night."

Murphy saw the worry in Thelonious' expression. "This is a good day, but don't make sudden moves or loud noises. Those freak her out."

Thelonious noted Clarke's vise grip on John's hand. "Thank you. Can we sit? I've been looking for you, hoping you could help me with a problem that's global in scale."

Murphy stretched his hand out to the living room. "Our casa is not your casa, but take a load off for a while, why not?" They made their way to the living room. Jaha sat in the chair and swiveled it to face them. Clarke sat on the arm of the sofa still holding John's hand as he stood next to her like a sentinel.

"John, you came on a journey with me looking for a better a life. While you may have found that better life, all life is in jeopardy. There's a… person… trying to put an end to all of it."

"Let me get this straight, you came looking for me to help you save the world? And now that you know Clarke's here and needs my care round the clock, you're still going to ask." Clarke yanked his arm in disapproval. "The world really must be in dire straits. So what do you think we can do?"

"But they'd croak, too. Flop like fishes out of water, no way to breathe." Clarke wrapped her arms around Murphy's one arm, pulling him down like a tree bending in the wind.

He ran his fingers through her hair. "Clarke's got a point. Wouldn't they die too?"

"They want only silicone based life to continue."

"AI-n-g-o," Clarke melancholily sang. "They're a computer."

"Yes, but the AI isn't stable. Alie wants to burn what she calls biological relics down, leaving only mechanical life."

"Why don't you pull the plug?" Murphy asked. 

"Her power source is guarded by armed droids. Anything living that makes it within ten meters gets gunned down. That will never work." Jaha shook his head and rested his thumb against his chin.

"Nothing living." Clarke giggled. "Hoist her on her own petard. Use a machine to get past her droids. If she's so mechanically inclined, kill her with a machine." 

Murphy watched Clarke come alive as she stood up and rattled off ideas. "We have a radio here. It's supposed to be long distance. If we can get Raven on the line, she could tell us what to do, or better yet, she'd love to come and do it herself. And, and Wick. He's an engineer. But we need to make sure they get past the not so nice Nessy and bring no one else. No, no one else. That'd be too much. Too too much. John! Don't let them bring anyone else. Please."

John pulled her into a hug. "We haven't even talked to them yet. But if we do, I'll make sure that it's Raven and Wick and no one else."

"Gotta hurry up and save the world. Make Raven tired and give her a headache. But she's friends with Mom and Mom's all about saving the world. Save the world with machines against machines." This time she started crying and shouting. "Raven likes a challenge if it means blowing something up. I should have blown them up. They suffered so much."

Thelonious got up and reached out to her, only to have her scream at him to go away. He looked at John. "Is she like this all the time?"

"Some days are better than others. I need to get her calmed down and hopefully to sleep. If you have nowhere else, take the couch. But the conversation is over for tonight." Murphy talked as he guided a still ranting Clarke to the bedroom.

"If you take advantage of her…" 

Clarke attacked Jaha, raking her fingernails down the side of his face. "Don't accuse when you don't know!" She shouted that over and over until Murphy picked her up and carried her away, shutting the door between her and Thelonious.

He set her on the bed and caressed her face. "He's just worried about you, and he doesn't know what we're like here together. He's never seen the two of us interact, let alone seen that we trust each other."

"I'll kill him if he tries anything stupid." Clarke's venom worried him. She wasn't usually keen on hurting anyone. She apologized to the fish they caught, and the birds they snared.

"Clarke, shh, why don't you change into your nightshirt. You're still drenched from standing in the rain earlier. You'll feel better once you warm up." And he couldn't believe he'd become someone's mother hen. When did John Murphy get a maternal streak? And since when did that streak preclude all the prime wank material he'd saved up helping her shower?

And as it would have to be tonight, she wound him up more, stripping down to nothing in front of him before putting on the pajama shirt and nothing else with an extra sashay to her movements. She crawled into bed and got under the covers. "My feet are still cold."

Tonight, after he changed into the matching bottoms to her top, he left room between them for the first time. And when she closed that gap, throwing a leg over his and wrapping her arm around his chest, he swallowed as another part of him swelled. It would be a long night.

He had to stop her hand when it began a journey southward. "No."

Clarke lifted her head and looked him in the eye, light from under the door enough to see that much. "John. This is me. You're not taking advantage."

"But why would you want to?" he asked as he shot off the bed. 

"Why wouldn't I? This is what I wanted to tell you when we were on the balcony." she knelt on the bed facing him. "I care about you so much, John Murphy. I never knew you had this kind of nurturing buried under all that sarcasm and hate. You aren't the guy that pissed on someone anymore. That guy died somewhere along the way. And I'm dead too. Why shouldn't we take what life and living we can in each other?"

"Because!" He sucked in a breath and counted to stop from shouting anymore. "Because you only want me because you're fucking out of your mind. And I don't get with people that don't actually want me too." His rage while not loud, hissed its contempt. "So do me a favor and sleep on your own side of the bed tonight."

"Take a shower and take care of yourself," she suggested with a tone laced with hurt and sadness.

"Can't do that. Your clear moments, if you haven't noticed, don't last long. Or aren't completely sane. Or both, either, both. You know what I mean." He turned his back to her, hand on hip, looking at the ceiling. "I hate this so much." 

"You said that out loud."

"I know I did."

"I'm sorry. I'll do better. I'll try harder. If I'm getting confused again, we'll figure out a way for you to let me know and I'll stop." She stood up and grabbed his hand, something she'd done a million times or more, but this time he pulled away, something he'd never done before. "I'll go. If you'd be happier without me, I'll go then you don't have to worry about Crazy Clarke and her veers into the deeply disturbed." 

She dropped to her knees and rooted through the closet floor looking for the clothes she arrived in. "I'll go out the way I came in. Another eye for a prize. I deserve another eye prize, right? Wait no, he's upset. Gotta make John happy again. Gotta make. Make. Gotta go."

Murphy knelt down next to her, turning her to face him. "I'm sorry, Clarke. The stress finally got to me. Don't go. You can sleep on your side of the bed for a night, right?"

She hugged her raggy half destroyed clothes to her chest. "Yes."

He tucked her into her side of the bed, unable to unclench her hands from the ball of fabric from the closet. Then he slipped under the covers on his side, and closed his eyes, daring sleep to skip him. If it did dare, well he was in the mood for a fight. Now he was starting to sound just as bat-shit crazy as she did.


	6. Chapter 6

Murphy woke surprised by the empty bed. Clarke slept a lot. There was no other constant with her. She'd sleep most of the day away if he didn't drag her out of bed. His search yielded nothing but an unconscious Jaha on the couch. He left no dust spec unturned inside the lighthouse, the balcony or the beach. Both mostly destroyed boats were still there, and no new ones. The woods behind the lighthouse were dense and needed shoes to go any farther. He sprinted to get suitable clothes then ran back out as fast as he could go, looking for any sign of her. Murphy shouted her name, and, "You can push me off a cliff and I'd do AS YOU WISH!" Nothing in return. 

His panicking stole his breath and made his chest tight and painful. He never wanted her to leave. And if she was having a bad day, she could be in a lot of trouble. If she was having a good day, he'd have zero luck finding her if she didn't want to be found. After miles of searching for any sign of life, Murphy doubled over and threw up stomach acid. She couldn't be gone. He'd never been anything before in his life. He tried, but he always went too far or didn't know what to do. But he knew what to do with Clarke. She'd turned him into a questionably responsible person who finally had someone else to care about that he thought would always be there, always need him. He'd let her in and now she disappeared. And Murphy was lost without her. 

He found the big white house where Alie, um, lived, he guessed, and since he hadn't found Clarke anywhere else on this tiny scrap of island, he walked into the jackal's cave. She sat on the floor in the middle of the hallway, with a chessboard in front of her. The hologram he figured had to be that AI nutty thing, told Clarke where to put the next piece for her turn. 

"I have checkmate in two," Clarke said as she got up looking bored. "Don't soft serve me. A computer should've been able to beat me in no time."

Alie's expression didn't change. "You tricked me into playing emotionally."

"Then you're a shitty AI."

"There's nothing artificial about me. I am as real as you are."

"But you can't beat a paranoid schizophrenic at chess. I've beat you six times in the last three hours. I started to purposely leave you openings."

"And I thought those were traps. That's the only logical reason to leave yourself open to a devastating attack."

"I somehow doubt I'll get you to stop being a genocidal tyrant by getting you to play tic tac toe over and over, but this show of stupidity does show that there's still a lot for you to learn from us biological illogical types." Clarke spit a bit when she laughed. "Bio-illogical."

"Let's play again." Alie's tone was angry and insistent even while her facade barely changed.

"But I've already told you my secrets. Now you need to learn and apply them to something else. There are only so many games of chess that can be played. It's time to think outside the box or circuitry if you will. It's not like you're getting rusty in your old age, right?" Clarke glanced at Murphy. "I have an admirable bio-illogical person who needs my attention. Come get me when you figure it out."

Clarke took Murphy by the elbow and walked him out of the house. They were inside the lighthouse before she'd let him say anything. "Why'd you do something like that? Clarke you could have been killed!"

"And how many times do I have to tell you that I'm already dead for you to figure out I never stay down?"

He knew he'd spent too much time alone with her when that made sense to him. "You're right. I'm sorry. You're still an adult and can make your own decisions."

"And he gets it!" She sang with her arms raised. "Now he should tell me why he still thinks we can't be together." 

Murphy didn't answer the question because as he rolled his head while trying to find a way out of answering, he found a way out of answering. "Where's Jaha?"

"We need to talk about him. He got to Earth by dumb luck in a missile. Alie has the remnants of that missile and is trying to rebuild it. She has some weird inferiority superiority complex because the scientist that gave birth to her for lack of a better term, always treated her like a machine when she's really a person who has been brainwashed into thinking all she is a machine with no thoughts or emotions of her own. And that person has been left largely alone for the last century, with her only contacts being when people bring her bits of metal and technology her droid army uses for her and their upkeep."

Murphy nodded. "So she's a toddler with no real social experience and stunted reasoning? And you made her mad why?"

"She frustrated, not mad. The guy that breathed life into her shunned her when she wasn't perfect and then killed himself when she had what amounted to a global temper tantrum. She's got some abandonment issues if you haven't gotten that part." Clarke chewed the inside of her cheek as she leaned against the pool table. 

"Funny. I got it. I can pay attention when it's interesting. So you got her a bit riled to help her figure out she's a real girl?"

"Oh no, she so crazy she'd need a full reboot to get better, but that would kill her. I couldn't get her to tell me where she kept her brain. So all I did was buy us some time for Raven to get here. See. Steel trap." Clarke grinned as she tapped her temple. "A few screws loose but that's OK too."

"Let's fire up the radio." Murphy was glad for the reprieve but it wouldn't last long. He also worried about seeing Raven. How would she react to him, now? He shot her, and she lost use of a leg because of it. 

"Ideas about how to get her and Wick across the giant lake without becoming sea monster food would not go amiss right now." Clarke paced behind Murphy as he dug the radio out of the electronics cabinet.

"Or we could let the engineer figure that out. Here we go." Murphy detangled the wires for the radio from the wires of everything else and put the radio on the table. 

Clarke plugged it in and looked over the dials. "This doesn't make any sense. The numbers aren't numbers."

Murphy checked the dial settings, and they were numbered just fine. "I'll work the dial, you work the handset."

"Needless to say, urgings by ravens are ignored at one's peril," Clarke said every time Murphy nodded his head that he'd changed the frequency. 

It took an hour, but finally someone answered Clarke's strange way of saying hello. "This is Camp Jaha, who is this?"

"I need to speak to Raven Reyes, this is Clarke, who will always pick her first."

"Please stay on the line," the man said.

Murphy raised an eyebrow at her. 

"Oh shh you. I've never been a non, or whatever those ladies that married god were called."

"Nun." He stifled a snort. 

"Clarke?" Raven sounded like a mom finding her lost toddler.

"Raven!" Clarke smiled then frowned. "There's something I needed, we needed. AI. Dangerous AI, but you make the best booms, so I need you to boom this."

"Clarke? What's wrong?"

Murphy felt his heart clench. He'd hoped Clarke had turned a corner. John gently took the handset from her. "I got this."

She nodded at him, tears welling.

"Raven, this is John. Clarke's not doing very well, but I can tell you what she needed."

"Murphy? You son of a bitch, if you did something to her, I swear I'll make it my mission to end you."

"I didn't do anything. She showed up at my door half dead. I've been nursing her back to health. I don't know what happened, but her mind hasn't been right. But that's not why she wanted to talk to you." John watched Clarke's despondent expression with concern. "There's an artificial intelligence here that we need help with. Clarke said you were the person to talk to. You and a Wick."

"I'm listening."

He explained as much as he could without telling her things that Alie might not like if she overheard. When he told her about the journey, the desert, robbers, minefield, and sea monster, she replied, "No sweat. The cavalry will be there asap."

Murphy set the handset down. Clarke was ripping the seam of her sleeve, so he knelt in front of her and took her hands. "It's all going to be OK."

"All correct, nothing is all correct. No such thing as OK. They spelled it wrong with a wrong abbreviation. But you say OK, and I believe you." She buried her face in his shoulder, and he stroked her hair and back.


	7. Chapter 7

Murphy and Clarke sat on the fishing raft he tethered to a tree. Her legs draped over his crossed legs and her head rested on his shoulder. This meant having to do things one handed, but he managed just fine. What wasn't fine was that Clarke had barely spoken unless she was playing chess with that AI bitch since they radioed Raven, and she'd gotten extra clingy.

Their breath puffed clouds despite the blinding sun. When he noticed the bits of white falling, they were few and spaced far apart, but an hour and four caught fish later, they were big fluffy snowflakes coming fast and sticking to everything. 

"Hey Clarke? Snow."

She didn't open her eyes, and he heard her sniffle. 

"Come on, Clarke. We need to get back to shore, give me a hand?" Murphy kissed the top of her head and nudged her with his nose. She looked up at him with red rimmed eyes. "Hey what's wrong?"

"Our world will disappear when they get here. Thelonious cracked it. Alie broke it more, but when Raven and Wick get here, it'll disappear completely before it ever reached the fill line." She wiped the tears off her face with bright pink fingers. 

"I don't think you have anything to worry about. And while I can do a great many things with you in this position, getting us back to land is not one of them."

When she moved off him, he grabbed the oar and paddled them ashore. They were only halfway there when a motor noise came from behind them. It got loud fast, and Murphy turned to see a large gray spiked submarine looking thing, coming toward them so rapidly that it'd make it to shore before he could get the raft there.

"Blowfish." Clarke shriveled into herself. 

"People." Murphy continued to row them to shore while the metal leviathan hit land and kept going on a set of tank tracks, stopping before it hit the solar panels. 

Murphy got off the raft just shy of shore and pulled the raft with Clarke the rest of the way. The submarine tank's hatch popped open, and a man John vaguely recognized from camp poked his head out.

"Murphy?"

"Yeah. Who else is with you? That thing's huge."

"Raven, Bellamy, Abby, and Monty."

Clarke sprinted away, Murphy on her heels. "Clarke wait!"

She dropped to her knees when he grabbed her elbow. "They brought others! I told them not to. I can't look at them. I can't avoid them all. They'll try CPR and fail. It'll kill them, and they can't die. I can't keep going if they die too!"

As Murphy knelt next to her and held her, Abby ran toward them. "Clarke!"

Before Abby could get close, Clarke jerked away from her, dragging Murphy along the ground with her. "No. Can't find the lever. Never found the right button, and the lever hurts. NO!"

Murphy buried her face in his coat. "Back off and let me calm her down."

Abby turned her face skyward, the tears streaming down her temples as snow caught in her eyelashes. 

"Shh, I got you, Clarke. You know I'd never let anything happen to you, right?" John massaged her head as he rocked her. "Never forget that you're strong. You can do this, Clarke. Just close your eyes and concentrate. Concentrate. You saved your mother, didn't you?" He was guessing, but it seemed the most probable scenario.

"At what cost?" Clarke asked in a gravelly whisper. 

"You've paid enough for whatever mistakes you made. Trust me on this. Those feelings of guilt and need for penance, you've paid more than necessary for them so they can go away now." He cupped her face in his hands and met her eyes. "There are no reasons left to punish yourself."

"Cl…" Abby started.

"Shh!" Murphy threw Abby a glare before focussing on Clarke again. "You with me?"

Clarke lifted her chin and ran her hand over his hair. "Snow?"

He smirked. "Yeah, it snowed. Want to take a walk in it?"

"Has Alie sent a droid for me yet?" Clarke asked.

"No, and Jaha hasn't come back again either. Remember? You asked me that this morning."

"Oh. It's cold." Clarke's gaze was unfocused as she turned her head in a slow circle. 

"Want to go inside and get warm? We can make tea and get you bundled in those ugly ass sweats we found last week." Murphy pushed her hair back when her circling dropped a bunch in her face. 

"Play me a song too?" She regained her focus, but looked at the snow in his hair. 

"As you wish.." He got them to their feet, and inside, waving the others to follow.

Bellamy whispered to Abby, "Do mental health issues run in the family?"

"My mother had some issues, but she wasn't this bad off." 

Murphy got him and Clarke changed and her tucked into bed. When he was sure she was asleep he went back out to the main room, closing the bedroom door behind him. All eyes were on him and he cleared his throat, nerves choking him. "Clarke's in the middle of a bad spell. She isn't always like this."

"How long has she been here?" Bellamy asked.

"I don't keep too close a tab on days and stuff, but I had to shave her hair off when she showed up because there was no way to brush it out, and I think there were some bugs living in it. But you saw her hair, it's almost as long as when I first met her."

"Yours isn't," Monty said. "It looks like a three year old cu… Clarke cuts it doesn't she?"

"With safety scissors." Murphy didn't know what to say to the people staring at him. "It's not like I have anyone to impress."

"You seem to have taken good care of her," Abby choked out.

John ducked his head. "We have a few MRE's left, or I could make some rice. That's what we have the most of here. I could cook the fish I just caught. There's some bird left from dinner last night."

"What kind of bird?" Raven asked.

"Some big brown thing with long ass tail feathers." He crossed his arms in front of his chest and looked at the floor. "Clarke calls them fuzzies."

"Pheasants, maybe?" Wick said. 

"If you kill a single raven I will gut you," Raven said as she leaned against the counter. 

"Right there with you babe," Wick said with a wink.

"Yeah, whatever. Just don't be loud and no sudden movements. Clarke gets freaked out by that stuff." Murphy walked into the kitchenette and picked up the bag of fish and began cleaning them, so his hands were busy. 

"You keep the knives under the counter?" Monty asked as he rounded the counter to see where Murphy got the knife. 

"She forgets how to unlatch the cabinet most days. But she's rarely alone, so that's good enough." He slit the fish belly perfectly with one stroke. 

Raven pulled out a stool and sat down. "You said there's an AI that needs us. Why don't you tell us about it."

"Alie wants to annihilate all life that's not mechanical. Clarke plays chess with her sometimes, getting to know stuff. She said Alie offered Jaha immortality for helping put a missile back together. There are still some nukes in the world, and if she hits the right target, it'll set off another nuclear war, and this time nothing will survive." Murphy threw the fish guts into a bucket. "We've only seen Jaha once since we got here though. I think he's got more screws loose than Clarke."

"What do you mean?" Monty asked cutting the others off from confronting Murphy's choice of words.

"Jaha came and asked for our help with Alie, then disappeared. So he's either decided that Alie has the right idea or she killed him with one of her droids." Murphy slapped another fish on the cutting board and slit its stomach open. "If he shows up, I wouldn't put much trust in him if I were you. The man's unhinged, killed some of our group to distract that sea monster thing, so he could get to shore."

The others gave each other grave looks. "How many made it this far?" Wick asked.

"Just me and Jaha until Clarke got here. She poked the damn loch ness monster's eye out. Clarke's badass when she wants." Another set of guts made it into the bucket.

"She seems to depend on you. Trust you," Abby said in a steely tone. "If I found out you've taken advantage of her, I'll forget that I swore to do no harm."

Murphy sighed and took his eyes off the fish to sneer at Abby. "Don't let Clarke hear you doubt my intentions. She doesn't take it well, and she goes for the eyes when she attacks. Almost took Jaha's out when he suggested the same thing."

Abby's eyes narrowed in distrust, but John shrugged it off and put a frying pan on the stove. "So what the hell happened with the Mount Weather bullshit?"


	8. Chapter 8

The only people that talked during dinner were Raven and Wick. They discussed what they could make with the available parts and argued about what they'd actually need. Murphy sat digesting what they told him about Clarke's part in the Mount Weather genocide. Bellamy lanced the fish so that his fork thunked against the plate. Monty's plate was empty in no time, and he deserted the table to scope out what all the lighthouse offered. Abby took small bites and shifted in her discomfort. "The fish was good."

Murphy nodded at her before gathering the dishes and putting them in the sink. He cleaned the sharps and left the rest. "I have to check on Clarke."

"I can do that," Abby said touching Murphy's arm.

"No offense because I know you're her mom 'n stuff, but considering her reaction to your arrival, it's probably best if I do it." He looked at her hand until she removed it.

Bellamy quirked an eyebrow and turned away trying to appear disinterested. Murphy knew better but kept that to himself for now. He opened the door to the bedroom slowly and closed it just as slow. When he saw her eyes were open, he asked, "You hungry? There's some fish left."

Clarke shook her head. "Did the ghosts go away?" 

He sat on the edge of the bed and ran fingers through her hair. "No. But they don't want to hurt you or make you feel bad. And you need to help me tell them about Alie, so why don't you come out to the living room with me?"

"Don't let go. They'll trap me in hell if you do." Clarke grasped his hand as she sat up. "Put in a box with the death nails and worms."

"We're not eating worms again or digging graves for imaginary people either." Murphy stood up and pulled her with him. "If it gets to be too much just tell me and we can come back in here."

"Don't leave me alone again."

"I won't. But you might need to keep me from punching Bellamy in the face."

"As you wish."

Murphy led her out to the living room and again everyone stared at them. 

Raven smiled and hobbled over. "Hey Clarke. We've missed you."

"Hurry up and save the world, give Raven a headache till she makes it go boom." Clarke shook her head. "Boom would've been better."

"OK." Raven's smile stiffened as she hobbled back to Wick. 

"No such thing. Not all correct, wrong letters abbreviating, not OK, but AC, but no that means air conditioning." Clarke shut her eyes tight and took a breath. "Everything's OK. I know what it means."

"She's talking about the origins of the term OK." Bellamy said. "Comes from Boston newspapers. They abbreviated a lot, and then for fun have the wrong letters. OK meant all correct."

"I know." Murphy rolled his eyes and looked at Clarke. "There's dishes to be done. Wanna help?"

"Dishes!" Clarke's face lit up. 

They ignored everyone while they did dishes together. The hands that weren't clinging to each other doing all the work. Clarke liked the bubbles. "When shall we three meet again In thunder, lightning, or in rain?"

Murphy cracked his voice to reply, "When the hurlyburly's done, When the battle's lost and won."

Clarke pitched her tone higher. "That will be ere the set of sun." She picked up a handful of bubbles and blew them at Murphy.

John heard Bellamy's derisive snort, and Abby's stern order to get used to Murphy and Clarke being this close for now, but that they'd get Clarke away and help her heal. Raven told Abby that Clarke was alive and physically healthy, and Wick pointed out that Murphy could get Clarke to smile. Bellamy listed off Murphy's faults and sins. And that is when Clarke let the plate she was holding drop and tried to attack Bellamy without letting go of Murphy. 

She growled swung her free arm at Bellamy with her fingers curled, trying to claw him like she had Jaha. Murphy held her back, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her to his chest. "Clarke! Let's go to the top and see if it's still snowing!"

Clarke relaxed into John's arms. "Blind mazes and bright lights."

"Can you get the blindfold on your own, or do you need me to go with you?" He glared at everyone silently ordering them to stay back and shut up.

"I got it!" Clarke let go of Murphy and ran to the bedroom.

"What the hell was that?" Bellamy yelled when the others couldn't bring their horror to words.

"You haven't been here for her bad days. I have and I take care of her. She trusts me and is paranoid about everything else. She didn't like it when Jaha stopped by, and I told Raven that Clarke wanted no one here other than her and Wick. So don't be shocked that she's reacting badly." Murphy's contempt turned into a soft smile when he felt Clarke put the blindfold into his hand.

"Top?" Clarke glanced at the rest. "Make them stay away. They want to bury us. Death nails and worms."

"Sure. I'll do my best, Clarke." He smiled softly at her right before blindfolding her, spinning her around a couple times and leading her through that made up maze and up to the top of the lighthouse.

When the wind hit her face she pulled the blindfold down. "It's so pretty. Like a white blanket over everything."

He stayed close as she walked all the way around kicking the snow and drinking in the scenery. The wind whipped at them, tousling her hair, and cutting through their clothes. He wished he'd had a few moments to grab them coats and hats before coming up here. She turned and hugged him, kissing him quick before turning around again. 

"I wish I had wings and not chains shackling me down." Her tone was lucid. "Wouldn't you love to soar over this, looking down to see something this pure?"

"I would." He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and she curled her fingers over his.

"If it weren't so damn cold, I'd say let's stay up here all night."

Murphy laughed. "Not looking to freeze to death."

"Let's go to bed."

"Only if you promise to talk to the others when we get up in the morning."

Clarke swallowed a lump in her throat. "I'll try. It's harder to hold it together with so many people."

"Tell you what, I'll kick them all out after we've dealt with Alie if you still feel that way." Murphy didn't tell her how much he wanted it to be just the two of them again. That he'd gladly kill every other person on the planet if it meant they'd never get disturbed again.

They walked through the living room with Murphy's arm slung over her shoulders, a smile on her face. He let her go into the bedroom alone and turned to the others. "I'll toss you out some extra blankets, but the bathroom is through here, and you're not welcome. So if you need the loo, take it outside." He did as he said he would then closed the door on their protests putting the wedge under the door just in case.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off I want to say: THANK YOU! To everyone that's read and especially the ones that have commented. This particular story means a lot to me on a personal level and I'm shocked that other people are interested in it. I've never gotten this number of comments for anything before in my life. You've made this a truly special experience. THANK YOU!
> 
> Oh and be warned, John gets extremely rude in this chapter.

"You know what I did to get locked up. Tell me what you did." Clarke and Murphy had been staring at each other from either end of a pillow for over an hour. 

He sighed. "My parents died. Dad got floated, mom drank herself to death. I was young. Ten maybe. I forget, but I got thrust on a person who just wanted the extra rations to trade for herb and shine. I got hungry, literal starving, so I stole a ration from the kitchen, and got caught."

She whispered her fingers over his face. "I'm sorry."

John laced his fingers through hers and kissed her knuckles. "Whatever else happened, at least we've got each other now, don't we?"

"We do."

"Shower?"

"Yes, please."

"Up for doing it on your own for a switch?"

"I think so." Clarke frowned.

"Don't forget to rinse the soap out of your hair." He kissed her forehead and rolled out of bed, leaving the room wearing nothing but a pair of ratty sweat pants.

"You're not even trying to help her talk to the rest of us," Bellamy accused as soon as John left the bedroom. 

"She's in the shower." Murphy didn't even look at Bell. He passed them by to make some powdered orange juice, thinking Clarke would like some. 

"Did you hear what I said?" Bellamy spat towering over an unaffected Murphy.

"She's in the shower. Talk to me after she's done." 

Abby eased Bellamy out of the way. "Have you tried to convince her that we're not her enemies?"

"Yeah." When Abby gave him that look, the same one he got from Clarke sometimes, he sighed. "Fine. She's constantly paranoid that no one will forgive her for killing children. Try quietly forgiving her for that and she might talk to you until she clouds over again. She's more lucid when she's calm. That can last anywhere from seconds to most of a day, depending on which way the wind blows in her head."

He went back to work, making powdered eggs and ignoring everyone. When he finished, and she wasn't out of the shower, he went to check on her. She was sitting on the shower floor, water off, crying about the blood pooling between her legs.

"It's your rag. We've dealt with this before. It'll stop for a little while and you can get dry, dressed, and put in that sponge thing. Did you wash your hair?" When she shook her head, he stripped and got in the shower with her. Turned the water on, tepid worked best for her, and washed her hair. This bar of soap was almost gone, but there was a closetful of them. When she was rinsed he figured that since he was already wet, he'd take his shower. 

Clarke was scrubbing his back and hair when Abby came looking for them. "Shit. I forgot to lock the door."

"How could you take advantage of her when she's not well!"

Abby's shout startled Clarke, sending her into a tailspin. "No! I won't let you!" Clarke's yelling faded into whimpers. "John. John don't leave me. Don't let her."

Murphy left Clarke cowering in the shower while he got in Abby's face. "I don't give a shit that you pushed her out of your vag. I've been taking care of her for a long time now, and the only time she's ever been mad at me is because I refuse to fuck her. I love Clarke, but there's no way I'd ever have sex with her when half the time she doesn't know who she is, let alone what she feels."

"Don't you dare speak to me like that."

"I'll do whatever the fuck I want because you need to get it through your head that she needs me more than you. Now shut the door on your way out. I have to calm her down again."

Abby was rooted to the spot with her indignation, so Murphy shoved her out the door then locked it.

* * *

Clean and dressed, Murphy held Clarke's gaze. "Neither of us are thrilled to have company, but they're here for a reason. We need to deal with Alie. So can you try extra hard to concentrate?"

"I'll do my best, but my stomach hurts." 

"I promise to rub your belly later. But we need to get rid of Alie so we can get rid of the crowd in the living room." Murphy smirked when she nodded. "OK, let's do this."

Clarke opened the door, and they walked out hand in hand as usual. When she saw all their faces, she waved nervously, but John squeezed her hand in assurance. 

"You need to know the details. The little things that make her that make her dangerous." Clarke wouldn't move past right outside the door. She stumbled over telling them about Alie's history with her maker, and her need to prove superiority. "Her brain and her power source are probably in different places. And and and she's a sneaky horcrux maker."

Murphy let go of her hand to wrap his arm around her. "Clarke and I think she has at least one backup for each. And they could be anywhere."

Clarke lit up and bounced on the balls of her feet. "Get rid of the missile first, worry about her later."

"The missile's in her house. We figured that much out. But we can't just blow that place up if you want Jaha alive." Murphy saw that their audience was mixed on Jaha's survival. "Do we need to vote on that?"

Still smiling, Clarke said, "Ooh, a trial. We can have arguments for and against saving him. Like that movie we watched, John, where they put God on trial. Remember?"

"I do. But they probably don't."

"I could play it for them." Clarke dragged Murphy toward the movie collection, and he let her search because he didn't want her to slip off the edge again. 

"Think up your arguments on why we should or should not risk the element of surprise by saving Thelonious Jaha."

Bellamy knelt next to Clarke. "What's the name of the movie? I'll help you find it."

"Found it!" She smiled at Murphy. Then Clarke played a scene where Jews in a concentration camp put God on trial. As it played most of the group was horrified at what Clarke found funny, or perhaps that she found any of it funny at all. Murphy knew that she wasn't laughing but was hysterical and upset, it was difficult for him to tell them apart when she first showed up. So he sat behind her and pulled her to his chest, rubbing one hand on her lower stomach. Clarke instantly calmed down.

Out of the corner of his eye, John saw Bellamy grit his teeth. Bonus.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is early because I'm going to be busy and possibly without internet all night tonight and all day tomorrow.

She knew the answers. The right amount of pressure to put on a wound, the right dosage of morphine for a woman that weighed a hundred and twenty pounds, the number of minutes it took to get from atmosphere to earth, the right way to string a worm on a fishing line for maximum efficiency. But what she did not know was how to put any of those things into words. The words she thought were correct no longer were. There was a disconnect most of the time, where all she could see were eyes and shadows and ghosts and the physical manifestation of hate for her. John Murphy surprised her with a kindness she'd have never thought he was capable. She knew this and he would never let her be close to him. Not in any way that would take care of him the way he took care of her. The only communication that worked sometimes was to say how something was like something else. 

John got it. The others and their flimsy apologies they had no right to give, their shady eyes at Murphy, their attempts to take her away from him, like she was too dim to know what they were trying to do… they didn't get it.

Trapped inside skin, her skin, and no way out. Her own mind a labyrinth she couldn't leave. Another corner another trap. Trapped like little birdies in the snare out back, poor birdies, Clarke had to eat them if she wanted to survive. Sorry birdies. Sorry allies. Sorry children. Sorry infants. Sorry was never good enough. The chatter heads never shut their traps long enough for her to digest the words. There was a process for words, one that made them make sense to her, but they weren't letting her have that. They kept talking and talking and there was no quiet, not that there ever would be quiet again. All the screaming as the skin burned and peeled, always in her ears. Never a moment of peace, piece of cake would me nice. The only cake she ever had was in prison, and prisons ply with cake and sweet savory treats. Gotta leave them, she saw through it all and turned into the monster she never wanted to be. 

Couldn't focus on anything. There was the little red light that blinked in front of her face sometimes, but following it would mean a trip to hell. Did she believe in hell before? She did now.

"STOP!" Clarke's sobs were met with hushed tones. A hand reached for her and she stepped back wishing to scare them off. Those big cat things were scary, so she hissed hoping to make the hand go away. It wasn't the right hand. 

When she tripped, someone caught her, but it was the one that should suffer with her, just as much as her, but there he was all tufts of hair and freckles all in their right places. He'd missed the golden ticket. That molten gold filled her belly and only hers, how could he not feel it? Throwing herself away from the missing molten, she searched frantically for John. John who wasn't there. John who took the fewest lives for all the wrong reasons and could look on her and smile. No smiles anywhere else. Murphy's smile was like a salve. Where was he?

"Clarke! I got you." John was holding her face and meeting her eyes with a worry that only he was allowed. 

"John," his name a sigh of relief from every crevice and crease in her body. "Don't leave."

"I had to go to the bathroom. You didn't touch your food. Clarke you know that an empty stomach will just make things worse." He wrapped her up in his arms and showed her the food again. "Grade A powdered eggs."

She smiled at the smile in his voice. "Thank you." And he knew to keep touching her, tethering her to a sense of calm she wouldn't otherwise have. Part of her hoped the others would learn, but seeing the disappointment and fear in their eyes told her the truth, that they would never be satisfied with her, especially not like this.

* * *

"Did none of you listen when I told you to shut the hell up? I told you that too much stimulation upsets her. And stop talking to her like she's two. If one more person baby talks at her I swear to God I will end them. She's not an idiot. Just pay attention." Murphy kept one hand on Clarke's back while she ate her freezing cold breakfast, staring the rest of the group down.

Monty stepped forward. "Can I try talking to her?"

Murphy looked at her plate and saw she'd inhaled the food and then nodded at Monty. "Don't go too fast or too slow. Keep an even pace, she'll follow you."

"Clarke?" Monty said when he took the stool next to her.

She looked at him. "On the matter of Jaha, opinion?"

"I think Jaha's as redeemable as any of us, but the world is more important." Monty licked his lips. "Clarke, I was wondering if you wanted to take a walk with me. Just the two of us, away from all this chaos?"

"Can John come?"

"Sure. I don't have a problem with that." Monty looked at Murphy and nodded.

Murphy nodded back. "I'll get our winter gear."

* * *

The three delinquents, all guilty of something walked across the snow covered beach. Monty said nothing until they were no longer in sight of the lighthouse. "I get why you left, Clarke. I wanted to come with you, but you said no. Is the answer still no?"

Clarke searched Monty's face then hugged him. "No, the answer is not still no."

Murphy sighed. One of the guests was permanent that was just great. Fantastic. 

"Murphy? Is this all right with you too?" Monty asked as Clarke let go.

John saw the sincerity in the question. And extended his arm and the two men shook hands. "It's fine by me. We'll have to figure out sleeping arrangements though."

"The bed's giant." Clarke smiled. Monty didn't seem to mind the suggestion.

"Fine but he better not steal the covers."


	11. Chapter 11

The arguing could be heard from the outside. Monty went in first to calm everyone down for Clarke. 

Murphy could see the tension on their faces as he and Clarke sat on the open couch with Monty. "Can one of you tell us what the loud's about?"

"We were discussing whether to try to save Thelonious," Abby said. "Bellamy feels that trying to save Jaha is an unnecessary risk. The rest of us believe he's worth it."

"What you're saying is that saving one person is worth risking the end of all biological life?" Murphy rolled his eyes. "I see it."

"I can't believe I'm on the same side as Murphy, but Abby, he's right," Bellamy said. "No one person, no matter who they are is worth risking the end of all life."

"We risked everything for the kids inside Mount Weather," Raven said. "Why's this different?"

"Because," Monty said, "it's not just a small group at risk, it's all plants, all animals, and all people. We may not have realized while we were in space that the world had went on after the war, but we do now. We also know that it won't survive another war."

"Looks like we got a tie," Wick said with a sigh. 

"Clarke, honey what do you think?" Abby asked kneeling in front of Clarke.

"Can't make, can't make the same mistake. Not again. Not again."

Abby hung her head and sighed. "She's not making sense."

"Yes, she is." Monty glanced at Murphy for the OK to translate and when he got it, he continued. "Clarke was gung ho about saving all of us in the Mountain, but the cost was too high for her. She'd rather let Thelonious die, then risk having more people die."

"We don't even know if Jaha's alive," Murphy said. "If he isn't dead, then he's a traitor. Why do you want to risk the world for a traitor?"

"If Alie's able to hurt him, she might be threatening him," Abby argued.

Clarke barked a laugh and snorted until dissolving into uncontrollable giggles. 

Murphy fought the urge to join Clarke. "What Clarke's saying is that's ridiculous. Alie threatening anyone into starting an apocalypse that will kill them too is ludicrous."

Raven gave Abby an apologetic look. "They're right. We'll have one shot at getting rid of that missile. And the only possibilities for Jaha are dead or traitor. I know you feel loyal to him, but is that worth risking everyone? You're the Chancellor, your responsibility is to your people first and to your friends and family second."

Abby looked to Wick for support, but he shook his head. "I'm with them. And Raven, Monty, and I have a lot of work to do. Clarke, do you know how close they were to finishing the missile?"

"A glimpse here, a glance there, added up to half then half left."

"Three quarters there as of?" Raven urged.

"Two days ago." Clarke wasn't positive about that, so she looked to Murphy for confirmation.

"Sounds right. Is there anything I can do to help?" Murphy asked.

"This place has to have some kind of septic system. Any ideas on where the tank would be?" Wick asked.

"Um, out back there's a pipe that's used as a relief valve. It smells like shit." 

Wick nodded. "Show me."

"Monty, stay with Clarke for a few minutes. I'll be right back."

"Sure thing." Monty touched Clarke's hand. "Do you need anything? Food, water?"

"I'm good." Clarke sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. Monty had been the only quiet one, the only considerate one. Another safe harbor for her to take quarter.

* * *

"Didn't take much to win Clarke over, did it?" Raven asked Monty as they soldered circuits the way Wick designed. "How'd you do it?"

"I expected nothing from her." Monty picked up another piece of metal and found a place for it in the design, upping from soldering to welding. 

"That didn't answer my question."

"Yes it did, and you not getting that is why she's still prickly with you." 

Raven paused and thought it over. "Oh, I get it now."

"Good, now let's just concentrate on this. In about ten minutes we'll have to arm it."

When Raven picked up the last wire they needed to attach, she noticed the empty couch. "Monty? Do you know where Abby went?"

"To get some air. You should check on her since she respects what you have to say."

"How long's she been gone?"

Monty shrugged. "An hour maybe."

"It's got to be negative thirty out there. Something's wrong." Raven set her soldering iron down on a block of wood after turning it off. She opened the door and peered into the darkness. "Shit. I think she's gone to try to save Jaha on her own."

Monty used his free hand to toss a bolt onto Wick's chest. "Kyle! Wake up. You need to find Abby."

"She's an adult," Wick grumbled as he turned onto his side.

"An adult on a suicide mission."

Wick sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Where are Murphy and Clarke?"

"In the bedroom. They were in the way, so I told them to go to bed." Monty doused his torch and set it aside. "I'll get them."

Raven wrapped herself in a jacket and was tying up her boots. "Those two know the damn island. If we're going to find Abby, we'll need them."

With a nod, Monty opened the bedroom door. Bellamy was asleep on the floor while Clarke tossed bits of lint at him. Murphy curled around her back, snoring softly. "Clarke?"

"Monty!" Her exclamation woke the other two up with a start.

"Clarke, I'm sorry but we need your help. All of you actually. Abby's missing. Raven thinks she went to save Jaha on her own."

Bellamy curled his legs and unfolded them to stand. "I'll be right out."

Murphy groaned and muttered curses as he got out of bed. And Clarke's smile disappeared as she pulled on her heavy pants and sweater.

"Mom needs a mom more than I need a mom. She kills dad but won't let Thelonious die? Tsk tsk." Clarke put on her hat, pulling it over her ears. "Shoes."

"Clarke? If your mother isn't dead, can I slap her? This stunt makes me look like Hawking brain wise."

"John! Shh, footprints make this breezy." Clarke's socks covered the bottom of her pants. 

"Point taken. You ready?"

"Ready, willing, able." 

"Bellamy?" Murphy asked the man who's been unusually quiet since arriving.

"Let's just get this over with." Bell stood up and walked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, I didn't know where this story was quite going when I started, but I've gotten over that hurdle and have finished. For those reading this as fluff and that's it, you might want to jump ship now. Things are going to get darker than the tone so far. And while I know a lot of you are seeing this story's sweet side, there's always been a darkness.


	12. Chapter 12

Clarke and Murphy led the way across the island, up the slope, and into sight of Alie's home. This was where the tracks led them. They all knew this wasn't a time for superfluous conversation and kept communications to the necessary. A flicker in the distance got their attention. Clarke turned to the others.

"Me alone. She trusts me, and maybe Jaha, but she doesn't know you. I need to see, she'll let me."

Raven said, "No way we're letting go by yourself."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Bellamy said slashing his hand downward as if it made it so. "No."

Murphy raised his hands for attention. "Clarke knows Alie better than anyone. She can do this. It's the only way to have any assurance that Alie doesn't figure out what we're up to. We can assume she doesn't know since her drones haven't been hovering."

"What if…"

"Shut up, Bellamy. Clarke's perfectly capable."

As they were debating the issue, Clarke slipped off unseen by Raven, Bellamy, and Wick. Murphy winked at her. She kept his smile in her mind as she walked straight into the lion's den so to speak. Alie. A lion. A lying lion. Sharp metal claws and bullet spit at worst, get back Mom at best. Not that mom was mom-like anymore. Vile words trying to take away her quarter, take her away, no mother should take away shelter. 

Concentrate! She smacked the side of her head. Gotta get Mom. These tracks lead to Mommy. Get her. Get her back. The lights in the mansion flicked on when her foot hit the first stair. "Alie! Got bored, wanted to play chess. Are you playing chess with Mommy? She tracked mud into the house. Do you want me to clean it up?"

"Clarke." Alie appeared near the door to the back room. "I'm sorry. I know you don't mean me harm, but the people around you do. I had to defend myself. I must still."

Clarke walked past the hologram into the forbidden back room. The walls were red. Splattered red with person juice. Behind the mostly assembled missile were empty flesh suits. "That used to be mother, not mom, not mommy now. Jaha smells like week old death nails and worms. Alie?"

"With your help I can keep you safe. Fix you. We can flip the genes that are scrambling your thoughts. I know the science. You know the medicine. Think about it, Clarke, having your mind back. You want that don't you?"

"Let me think about it. Need to talk to John now. I'll be right back." Clarke shuffled to the front door, but it was closed and locked. "Alie? Let me go!"

"I'm sorry Clarke but they all have to go." Alie played a recording of Clarke screaming during a bad spell, and Clarke spun around, picked up a chair and bashed every sensor in sight. All the hologram sources were smashed, and finally through a window. The drones flew fast in the distance and fired bullets rapid. 

"NO!" Clarke sprinted back to her friends and found them all shot. Raven's bad leg was shredded, Wick had a chest wound, and Murphy was face down, blood staining the surrounding snow. "NO!"

"Clarke, get Monty," Raven gasped out.

Not listening, Clarke ripped her coat and sweater off. Off went her T-shirt, ripped into strips, using a nearby stick, she made a tourniquet at the top of Raven's thigh. "Press here! Here, here." 

Raven saw that Clarke meant Wick's chest wound and pressed as hard as she could, blood squirting through her fingers, no matter how clamped together she tried to keep them.

Clarke turned John over, finding belly wounds. "Surgery. Have a knife need to do it now. Now. Now. No, can't yet. Need to sew, can't do that here."

Now looking over Wick, Clarke saw that the chest wound was at the shoulder. "He'll be fine if we can get the bleeding to stop. Needs to stop leaking juice. Press haaaard. I'll be back. Have to save John. Can't lose my Murphy. He's not allowed to die. I don't allow it."

Bare from the waist up, Clarke stuffed T-shirt into the three holes and pulled him by his legs down the hill. "Light the house, in the lighthouse. Sewing kit, and antibiotic weeds. We have some saved. They'll make him better, gotta fix him."

She stopped a couple times to check his pulse, erratic but strong. "I'll take care of you, John. I can do this. You need me for a switch."

Blood streaked the white fluff, making red slush. "Too much juice. Too much juice." The lighthouse was in sight but his breathing caught and he coughed. Another stop. Reality sinking through the haze. "John." She fell to her knees next to him, tears dripping on his cheek. "John!"

His eyes never opened. She kissed all over his face. His eyes never opened. Pulse slowing fast, and his eyes never opened. "Please. Hang on! I have to get you home. I can do this. I can save you. Can't I? You believe me? Right? Please. Please open! Eyes have to open!"

John Murphy's eyes never opened. And Clarke decided that hers wouldn't either. Her arms tight around the freezing corpse, she let the cold seep into her from the ground. If he was cold, she would be too. She'd follow him anywhere he led. Even if that was through death's door. They'd walk through it together. She wouldn't leave him to go by himself. 

"Death nails and worms."

And follow she did. Without a shirt the cold took her in no time.

* * *

Monty found them after the sun rose. He'd finished the machine, and no one had returned. When he found Clarke and Murphy covered in blood and fresh snow, he bowed his head for a moment, but trudged forward, looking for Raven and Wick and Bellamy and Alie. Especially Alie. That bitch would die if it was the last thing he did in this world.


End file.
